


Clan Djarin

by disdainfreely



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian Culture, Quiet times with family, post S1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disdainfreely/pseuds/disdainfreely
Summary: “I haven’t heard that name spoken since I was a child.”In all the chaos that follows this declaration, Din’s announcement that no one has said this name to him since he was a child goes unquestioned. It’s only later, much later, after Kuiil is honored appropriately, after Din has time to heal, after the Armorer has completed her work, after Paz has returned to Nevarro with the foundlings all settled into safe houses, that anyone brings it up again.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 255





	Clan Djarin

_“I haven’t heard that name spoken since I was a child.”_

In all the chaos that follows this declaration, Din’s announcement that no one has said this name to him since he was a child goes unquestioned. It’s only later, much later, after Kuiil is honored appropriately, after Din has time to heal, after the Armorer has completed her work, after Paz has returned to Nevarro with the foundlings all settled into safe houses, that anyone brings it up again.

It’s a quiet evening, peaceful. They’re in the Forge, all of them, because the Armorer is tending to her tools and with the rest of the Tribe gone, Paz and Din have been spending much more of their time in the Forge with her. The child has proven to be fascinated with the Armorer’s work and thus easily entertained as long as they’re all in the room. Greef Karga and Cara have joined them. That’s hardly unusual at this point either.

Cara is feeding the child scraps of meat under Din’s watchful eye. He’s really not concerned about her and the child at this point, but old habits die hard. She dusts her hands off as the child empties her plate and toddles off toward Paz, who still looks to have food for him.

“Din, I don’t think you were feeding this one enough.” Paz rumbles a laugh and gives in to the pleadingly large eyes, slipping some food into the child’s grasping hands.

“He does call you Din.” It’s Greef who says it out loud, eyes turning from the child to Din. “I thought you said you hadn’t heard that name since you were a child.”

Din shakes his head. “Djarin was the part I hadn’t heard. It was my birth family’s name. It was recorded on my adoption, but it hasn’t been my name since.”

Paz pauses, looking from Cara to Din to Greef, as if not sure if he should be interjecting or stepping in to defend Din. They’ve settled into an easier camaraderie since Paz’s return. Apparently Din’s betrayal of the Empire to protect a foundling was enough to remind Paz that they had been friends once and could be again. It’s helped that Paz is enamored with the child.

“They changed your name?” Cara asks, her brow furrowing.

“I took my adoptive father’s name,” Din says. He holds his hands out to the child, who’s returning to him to climb into his lap. Apparently he’s scavenged enough food. “It’s nothing unusual.”

“So what is your name then?” Greef asks. Din looks down at the child who’s snuggling into his arms.

“Din Vizsla.” 

“But when you sent us away--you said to tell them that Din Djarin had sent us. And she called you Djarin when she gave you the jetpack,” Cara says. Her brow is furrowing and Din is glad his helmet can hide his smile. One advantage of following the Creed--your facial expressions are always well hidden.

“I was dying. I knew--” he falls quiet, look down in the child’s wide, dark eyes. “I knew they would understand if you said that name.” He can hear Paz shifting, can practically hear the low sound of anger from the larger man. Paz has always been protective of the Tribe, even if they haven’t been on the best of terms. He knows Paz is upset that he wasn’t there to help, even if Din doesn’t blame him for even an instant. Paz was caring for the rest of the Tribe’s foundlings. Din could certainly never fault him for that.

“And I called him Din Djarin because that is his name again.” The Armorer looks up from her work and Din can feel the weight of her eyes on him. They might be the same age, or close to it, but she’s always had the same heavy stare. “He is his own clan now. A clan of two.” She nods to the now-sleepy infant in Din’s arms.

“So your name isn’t Vizsla anymore?” Cara seems confused and more than a little skeptical.

Din shrugs. “In a sense. My name is Din of Clan Djarin, House Vizsla.” He looks down at the child. “He is also Clan Djarin.”

Cara seems unconvinced of this. She looks at Paz. “You’re a Vizsla, aren’t you? Are you part of some Clan too?”

Paz shrugs. “I’m Clan Vizsla. The main branch of the House. So was Din’s buir.”

“So what, is everyone just starting Clans? Is that what happens when you become a grown up Mando?” Cara asks. Greef snorts into his drink.

“It is a great honor to start your own Clan,” the Armorer says. “It happens rarely. Many move between Clans at various points in their lives with different marriages, but to start your own does not happen often at this point in our history.” She’s looking down at the hammer that she’s carefully cleaning. “Din Djarin has proven himself worthy.”

Din flushes and is again grateful for his helmet. It’s unlike her to give such blatant praise. “I am honored.”

“This is the Way,” she says simply, and returns to her work.

Cara shakes her head. “Too complicated for me, but here’s to Clan Djarin.” She raises her glass. Greef follows suit, and, after a moment, so does Paz.

“Clan Djarin,” Paz rumbles. “Not a bad Clan, for one so small.”

Din grins beneath his helmet and tilts his head in the way that he knows Paz will recognize from when they were children. “Clan Djarin can do with two members what House Vizsla needs ten to accomplish.” He accepts the less than gentle punch that makes his pauldron ring with the contact. It was actually fairly restrained for Paz.

“Wait until you don’t have the ad’ika to protect you. Then we’ll see.” The words are a threat, but Paz’s tone is amused and he tilts his head back at Din in the same way. 

Greef shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand Mandos.”

“That’s just House Vizsla,” the Armorer says, as if this is a normal thing to be saying. “They’re more...temperamental than many, regardless of their Clan.”

“Untrue,” Paz objects as Din laughs.

“Din? Temperamental?” Cara asks disbelievingly. The Armorer hums.

“You should have known him when he was younger.”

Din finds his face turning bright red beneath his helmet as Cara’s suddenly interested eyes fall on him.

“Yeah? He a troublemaker?”

“He and Paz were inseparable, and yes, they caused more than their share of trouble.”

Din ducks his head as Paz starts to object again and finds himself making eye contact with the sleepy child in his lap. Apparently the adult conversation has woken him up, but he isn’t crying. He’s just looking up at Din with big eyes. Din smiles beneath his bucket.

Being a Clan of two doesn’t mean it’ll only be them forever. Their Tribe will still be there for them.

“Welcome to Clan Djarin, ad’ika,” he whispers. The child turns over and goes to sleep, apparently not understanding the gravity of what’s been said to him, and Din shakes his head and rejoins the conversation just in time to join Paz’s protests that they hadn’t been nearly such trouble as children.


End file.
